League of Oneshots
by Ronald del Reagan
Summary: Oneshot central. Tell me a pairing or idea you'd like to see and I'll do my best to make it happen. M for violence, sex, death, etc... All that good stuff y'know. Come along friends, let's read some oneshots together. [Hiatus]
1. Chapter 1

**The Purifier and The Warden**

Lucian strode his way over the sand beneath his feet. Only seconds ago had he anchored his small canoe on shore and hopped out onto the beach. He ran with haste to the treeline, where the eerie green sand ended and the dead ground and decaying forestries began. He knew more than anyone, the less time you spent on the Shadow Isles, the better.

This had been his third trip there this week alone. Most would deem him insane, for it was hard enough to survive one trip to the isles, much less this many in such a short time. Ever since that fateful day, though, ever since Senna… He had become obsessed. His days consisted of studying where and when evil beings would make their moves, and his nights consisted of hunting down said beings. Sleep was not a luxury he could afford and it showed with heavy bags hanging below his eyes. The Shadow Isles never specifically beckoned him since these monsters generally kept to themselves, but after his wife's death, he could think of nothing but revenge. So he continued coming back, looking everywhere he could for the one known as Thresh, and so far he had always left empty handed.

He reached the edge of the forest, unholstering both of his guns; Taking a second to admire their craftsmanship. The various designs and symbols on he and his wife's former weapon gleamed a faint silver hue. He read one of the inscriptions carved onto Senna's aloud.

"Knie vor Gericht." The language was from an ancient race of justicars, hellbent on purifying the world. The very same race that created these weapons in the first place. It translated to "Kneel before justice".

The moon was high in the sky, its normal white appearance differed from the green one it cast on the dreaded island. Still, its light illuminated his surroundings quite well, which he considered a good omen of sorts. Snapping his eyes from the moon back to the forest, he surveyed his surroundings. Not much was out of the ordinary. If you considered the ground being completely dead and the vegetation having glowing green veins running through them ordinary, that is. Regardless, he continued his trek forward, holstering one gun and pulling a small map from his pocket. On said map were directions he had made himself after visiting the isles so many times. There were large crossed regions, which could only be assumed were places he had checked thoroughly and had not found Thresh. He traced his finger over a dotted line leading to an abnormally large cavern and decided he would check there for today. It was only a few miles away, so he put his map back, re equipped his gun, and continued north.

The walk was relatively uneventful. He heard the occasional rustle of thicket or shriek in the distance, but nothing seemed to be pursuing him. Regardless, he stayed on high alert, holding both his weapons up, ready to fire at anything that moved. The cave's mouth came into sight, its empty maw offering nothing but howling winds and the darkness that lay on the other side.

Lucian trudged to the cave's opening and gazed inside. He was greeted with nothing but pure darkness. It wasn't the same as regular darkness, it felt like all the light had been sucked out. Keeping his guns steady, The Purifier took a hesitant step inside. Then another. After quite a few more, he found himself completely submerged in darkness. He had lost all sense of direction, the only source of light being the faint glow from his duel pistols. He figured he'd been wandering the various tunnels and denizens of the cave for thirty minutes or so. Unfortunately, he had found nothing to show for it. He found himself worrying slightly, since he had no idea how to navigate this underground maze and there was a good chance he may not find an exit. Just as he started to feel hopeless, an ominous faint green glow emanated from the end of the tunnel. Weapons at the ready, he cautiously walked towards it. Rounding the corner where the source of the light was, he saw a large cavern with green veins running through the rock, lighting the makeshift "room". Sprawled across the ground were wicked looking blades and instruments that he didn't even want to know what they did. There was a flat bed made of only wood with restraints placed in the position of where someone's hands and feet would be. There could only be one being that held so many instruments for torture…

A light hum broke Lucian from his thoughts and he dashed behind the corner, hoping whoever or whatever was humming had not seen him. Poking only his head around for vision, he saw a green skeletal spectre sitting in a chair where he had not been a second ago, sharpening his scythe. C

"La da dee, La da doe, La da dum." The creature hummed. He finished his sharpening and lifted his scythe close to his soulless orbs, inspecting his work. With a nod of approval he stood and turned away from the corridor Lucian was in. Walking to a cabinet beside the torture bed, he opened a drawer and grabbed his lantern. A lantern that held all of the damned souls he had killed. A lantern Lucian knew too well.

A lantern held by the monstrosity that had taken everything from him.

"ARGHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" Lucian yelled, anger raging inside him like the fire of a thousand suns. Seeing the lantern that contained his wife was the tipping point for Lucian. All care and strategy went out the window as he rounded the corner with both guns held high, firing round after round towards Thresh.

The Chain Wardened seemed unfazed by The Purifier's lively entrance. Springing into action, he nimbly ducked and rolled out of the hail of fire, evading most shots. Lucian's onslaught continued as he ran straight towards Thresh. Feeling the pressure, The Warden launched his scythe forward, striking Lucian in the side. A smirk adorned his features as the scythe remained in The Purifier's body. Using great force, Thresh yanked the chain, causing Lucian to fly straight towards him. Mid flight, he aimed a gun in the general direction of Thresh and fired, praying to whatever god there was it would hit.

The Chain warden felt one of The Purifier's bullets collide against his skeletal body and push him to the ground. Lucian flew over him and landed on his back a small distance away. Thinking quickly, he tore the scythe from his skin whilst releasing a cry of agony. Pushing the pain aside and deciding not to notice the red warm liquid leaking from his side, Lucian regained his composure and met Thresh's gaze, who seemed to have gotten up as well. They stood like this for awhile, Thresh's soulless sockets staring straight into Lucian's eyes that radiated anger. Neither side made a move.

"So Purifier," Thresh spoke, finally putting an end to the stare. "You are here for revenge, yes?"

"I am here for justice. To finish what we started." Lucian responded.

"Ah ah ah," Thresh said, waving his finger. "This is not about justice at all Lucian, heh heh. Keep in mind that you and your beloved attacked me. I was only acting in self defense."

"You forfeited your life when you decided to become this wretched abomination. We were doing you a favor." Lucian said, his eyes narrowing.

"Stop saying "we" Purifier," The Chain Warden laughed, "It is only you now."

"I will kill you and put Senna's soul to rest, even if it is the last thing I do!" Lucian yelled.

"I read in an ancient proverb once that only a fool trips on something behind him. The past is irreversible and the future is irrelevant. The only thing that matters, Lucian, is the present. And you, my dear friend, you have made a grave mistake coming here." Thresh began cackling and raised his lantern, which then showed the ghostly face of Senna trapped inside it. She was screaming, but no noise came. "I've personally made sure her torture quite painful. Think about what you've done to her Lucian. You weren't strong enough to save her, you let her suffer, and finally, when she watches me kill you today, your death will be the best torture for her of all!"

Lucian slumped to his knees, dropping his weapons at her sides and cradling his head in his hands. "I… I did this to her? I am the reason she is suffering so?" He whispered.

"Of course you are!" Thresh laughed, enjoying every second of this. "What else could you be if not her suffering?"

Lucian hands found their way to his weapons and he sprung from the ground, charging headstrong at Thresh. His mind turned to a red haze, and the only thing he could think of doing was killing The Chain Warden.

"THREEEEEEEESHHHHHHHHHHH!" A violent, animalistic screech tore from his throat as he raised both of his guns to Thresh, firing round after round into his body. Each one hit, knocking the warded back more. Finally, Thresh collapsed onto his knees and looked up at The Purifier standing over him. Green blood flowed freely from the several holes in his chest. Lucian put Senna's former weapon against the Warden's forehead and read the inscription written on his own gun aloud.

"Aus der Hölle du gekommen, in die Hölle Sie zurückkehren" Lucian said resolutely, his eyes shining. "From hell you came… To hell you return."

_***Bang***_

**Fin**

* * *

**Author's notes: This is a project I've been wanting to do for a long time now. I have quite a few one shots written on my computer, but I have no desire to turn them into full fledged stories. This will be where I post these one shots, which I will update quite frequently. If you have ANY story or pairing you want to see, pm me or tell me in the reviews and I will write a story about them and post it here. I don't even care if it is the most bizarre pairing in the world, i'll take it on as a challenge.**

**Cheers,**

**-RDR**


	2. Chapter 2

**Not Draven, Draaaven.**

Sivir strode down to bot lane with her support, Sona, accommodating her. Her summoner had selected her Snowstorm skin, which she quite liked. They arrived at their turret and waited patiently for minions to spawn. Standing by the opposing tower she saw a man in wicked blue armor dancing. Sighing, she realized it was none other than Draven using his Soul Reaver skin.

"Ugh. Every damn time I get picked the other team has him." Sivir said, pointing to Draven.

"D:" Sona 'said'.

"Its not even like I can't beat him or anything, he is just so damn annoying that by the end of the match I always have a headache. I can only listen to someone talk about themselves for so long."

"MINIONS HAVE SPAWNED" Boomed the announcers voice over the fields. Shortly the mindless little creatures arrived and she and Sona moved up accordingly. They began laning and she started attacking the minions. Luckily, her summoner was quite skilled and had yet to miss a last hit.

"Yo! Can you hear me Sivir?!" Said a voice inside her head.

"Yeh, what's up summoner?" Sivir responded.

"Oh, not much, just chillin like a villian. We got this game, I'm a pretty high ranking summoner. You may know me, I go by "Darienswagmaster420."

"Yeahhh..." Sivir facepalmed.

* * *

It was about twenty minutes into the game and she had just about had it with Draven. Neither side had yet to get an advantage, but he still bragged as if he had.

"Too easy!"

"Let's admire me for a bit!"

"Perfection? I got that."

Not entirely focused, Sivir fell victim to a hook from the enemy Thresh supporting Draven. Being pulled in to the both of them, she got fuckin rekd. Sona ditched her like the good support she was and now she was on her knees, weaponless, and bleeding profusely in front of Draven and Thresh. She was in an immense amount of pain, the blood loss already blurring her vision. He looked her in the eyes with a shit eating grin on his blue face.

"Sorry babe, you can't touch this Draven." He said cockily.

"F… fuck… you…" She responded venomously.

"Maybe later, hot stuff. I'll admit you gotta rocking ass doe." Draven said.

"Jesus Christ Draven, would you just kill her already?" Thresh said, agitated.

"Hey!" Draven turned to Thresh, who turned to him as well, "You don't boss Draven around! Draven's the boss here!'

"Your so incompetent." Thresh sighed.

"At least I'm not green, dickhead!" Draven spat at him.

The two continued arguing and failed to notice Sivir slowly crawling away. She had gained enough distance to get back to her tower. Starting her recall, she laughed to herself at the gigantic idiot Draven was. I mean, c'mon, she was a free kill, now she was gonna get away scot fre-

Sivir's thoughts were interrupted as a massive pair of axes came tearing through the earth in her direction. Her eyes widened just before they made impact.

"Son of a-"

"FIRST BLOOD!"

* * *

The match had ended horribly. To say it was a massacre was an understatement. After the one kill Draven got on her in lane, he snowballed his advantage and got 17 more on her, 35 more on Sona, and 132 total. He had accumulated 7 Pentakills and 4 of them were 1v5. **(A/N: Typical ranked game for me as Draven.) **Sighing, she walked off the recall platform. Choosing to remain in her Snowstorm skin, she began the lonely walk back to her room. Fate would not have it that simple, as Draven accidently bumped in to her on the way. He also still adorned his Soul Reaver skin.

"Sorry sweet cheeks, didn't see ya there!" He announced.

"Get outta my way." Sivir snapped, irritated.

"Oh c'monnn." Draven cooed, "Don't tell me you don't want this Draven." He gave her a spank on the bottom which caused her to blush and erupt in anger simultaneously. Promptly, she punched him across the jaw, causing him to fall on his back.

He comically stood right back up, wiping some blood off the corner of his mouth.

"Ooh, you're a feisty one, I dig that." He said, smirking.

"What exactly do you want from me?" Sivir asked, her anger still rising.

"Isn't it a bit obvious? I'm a sexy ass motherfucker, you're not too bad yourself. Come back to my place with me for a drink." Draven retorted.

"In your dreams." Sivir said.

"Ohhh c'mon." Draven said, wrapping an arm around her waist pulling her head to his chest. "Not every hunny gets a personal invite from Draven himself."

"Fuck. Off." She did not wait for an answer, instead choosing to walk back to her dorm. Draven merely smiled as he watched her form disappear in the distance..

"She'll be back."

* * *

_Later that night_

It was about midnight and Sivir sat at Gragas' bar named "Drunken Rage". He always served the best, albeit it was more expensive than any other bars at the institute, she found it worth it. It was a friday night and a variety of different champions were also here. Most were not sitting around gloomily like Sivir, rather deciding to enjoy the social outing and get hammered. She saw Lee Sin, the monk who is supposed to never drink, slamming down shots of Vodka with Irelia and Janna sitting on his lap. Behind her a small crowd had gathered to watch an intense drink off between Brolaf and Tryndamere, each side having consumed at least 250 beers by now, yet both refusing to back down. To her right was Talon taking body shots off Fiora and Jayce armwrestling Vi. Everyone seemed to be having fun except her. She didn't really have a lot of friends in the League. Guess that's what you get for being a gun *cough cough* boomerang for hire. Regardless, she just wanted to drink the night away.

"What can I get ya little missy?" Gragas asked, seemingly drunk as well. Then again, Gragas was always drunk. Back in high school he was a real party animal.

"Give me a fifth of Jack Crownguard." Sivir responded.

Gragas' eyes widened. "A whole fifth? Little lady, that would probably kill ya!"

"Are you gonna get it or not?" Sivir asked, wishing he would get on with it.

"It'll be your funeral!" Gragas bellowed before laughing, then fetched the entire fifth and handed it to Sivir. She in turn gave him a few gold coins as payment.

* * *

It had been at least an hour and Sivir was drunk. Okay, drunk may be an understatement. There's like three different levels of drunk. Number one is feeling good, but conscious of what is going on and able to see and hear properly. Number two is being pretty drunk, hard of hearing and slightly blurred vision, but still being able to form somewhat cohesive thoughts. And finally number three, being totally shitfucked and only being able to focus on one thing at a time, also unable to form any thoughts whatsoever. Sivir was probably in between 2 and 3. She went to take another sip from her bottle but felt nothing come out. Eyeing it, she noticed it was completely empty. She sadly set it back on the bar and looked around. If anything, the bar had only become livelier. Now she spotted Ahri and Morgana making out in a corner, Zed without his mask on, which revealed his white face and long black hair, chugging a handle of gin in front of Akali who was clinging to his arm, and Vayne in a game of beer pong versus Varus. Alcohol really changed people when they were under its effects.

She felt a presence to her left and turned to see whom had sat down beside her. To her surprise, a man dressed in blue armor, who normally wielded a pair of deadly axes, now was sitting at the barstool next to hers. She instantly recognized him.

"Draven." She spat, her eyes narrowing.

He turned to her, for a moment a surprised look came across him, but he immediately masked it. "Heeeeeeey shweet cheeks!" Clearly he had been drinking pretty heavily, the flush in his face and his slurred words were an obvious tell.

"Whaddya want?" She asked, finding it hard to formulate words.

"Ya know shweet cheeks, that snowstorm skin really fits ya, you should *hic* wear it more often."

Sivir blushed from the compliment, forgetting until then that she still was in the Snowstorm skin her summoner had requested for previously in game. She quite liked it as well, since it accuented her… erm… assets.

"You don't look sooooo bad in that skin, either." She complimented, looking the blue Draven up and down. "Too bad you're such an ass, I might even think you're kinda cute~~." Sivir didn't even know what she was saying. While it was pretty obvious that most women in the League found Draven's body and physique quite attractive, his attitude and ego generally ruined his chances with League champions, who for the most part had self respect for themselves. Of course, that didn't stop the obsessed fans, in particular female fans, from throwing themselves at him.

"Ah ah ah." Draven said, waving his finger at her. "So you do think I'm fuckable? Can't say I'm too surprised, heheh."

"That's not at all w-" Sivir retorted, trying to defend herself.

"Shhhh." Draven said, placing a finger over her lips. "I can see it in your eyes, schweet cheeks. *hic* The only problem is that I talk a lot, huh?"

"S-Shut up…" Sivir said, kinky images already formulating in her drunken head.

"If that's the problem, I can guarantee you this Draven will do no talking tonight!" He slurred. "How's about it, schweet cheeks?"

"One condition." Sivir said, narrowing her eyes. She had no idea why or how he had wooed her, but if she was being honest, her body desperately needed release. It had been months since she had 'slept around', due to her constant involvement with the League. She had a void to fill, and Draven would do the job, so long as he shut up.

"Name it." He responded, his trademark grin plastering his face.

"Don't call me 'sweet cheeks'. Ever. Again. And no talking tonight. At all."

"That's it?"

"Yep."

"Haha! You gotta deal babe!" C'mon, my room is closer!"

Draven wrapped his arm around Sivir's waist and together they walked back to his room. Oh what pleasantries awaited…

**Fin**

**Author's Note: Hehe, how was it? Keep the suggestions coming! **


	3. Chapter 3

**Afraid of the Dark?**

Syndra floated gracefully through the cafeteria at the institute. Grabbing her plate compiled of a small serving of white rice and chicken, she sat down at the edge of a nearby table, alone. Such was life for her. The only person she could even call a 'friend' was Zed, perhaps, and still she felt that he would slit her throat at the first chance. Regardless, she ate her food with haste, wishing to leave this god forsaken cafeteria as soon as possible. Champions sitting nearby, such as Garen and Fiora, eyed her carefully. But she always got those looks when she went anywhere. They judged her immediately without hearing her side about anything. Most of their 'factual' evidence was just hearsay, and nothing more.

"What do you want?!" She snapped, narrowing her eyes towards the nearby group of Demacians.

"Ah… Er… Uhm… Demacia?" Garen stuttered.

Syndra pinched the bridge of her nose. "So incompetent."

Ionia sure did know how to slander one's reputation, but moping about did no good. Yeah, okay, maybe she did go a little crazy with power, and maybe she did kill a few people,okay more than a few… But even so! Everyone has breakdowns!

Oh well. There was little to nothing she could do to get her fellow champions' respect back. Even if she saved ten kittens from a burning tree, whilst helping an old lady cross a street, and achieving world peace singlehandedly, they'd probably not care at all.

Syndra smirked. It was a good thing she had no intention to do any of those things. The way she saw it, this immense power was a gift. She absolutely loved it. The feeling of being so… _unstoppable_… so… _dominant_. It was intoxicating. Unfortunately, the institute claimed she was a bit unstable in her previous state, so they bound most of her magic. She could feel it brimming inside her, begging for a release she could not grant. Whenever she gained her true #potential back, the institute would feel the Sovereign's wrath, or so she hoped. For now, this rice was going to feel her wrath instead.

**...**

Syndra floated through the halls of the institute on the way back to her room. She had been out for matches all day, and really couldn't wait to fall into face first into bed. On the way, a blood curdling shriek caught her attention. It sounded like it came from a hallway directly to her left. She went down it, looking over all the doors along the way until she saw one with the words "HOLDING BAY 6" above it. Her interest piqued, as she attempted to open the door, but it remained firmly locked. She tried a few more times, but to no avail. Out of frustration, she grunted and blew the door down with a burst of her dark magic. Stepping over the broken door, she walked into a room with a large window. The eeriest thing though was that on the other side of the window was complete backness. The transparency of the glass ran true, and did indeed show total nothingness on the opposite side. It was quite unnerving. Syndra finally found the source of the shriek. Leaning back in the chair was the corpse of a summoner, their face still paralyzed in shock. Syndra gasped, but she had seen death plenty of times, and after awhile it just didn't really affect too much. Regardless, this situation was most puzzling. She had found a room that was not supposed to be opened, a dead summoner, and a gigantic window with only darkness on the otherside.

_Wait a minute…_

Summoner's face paralyzed in fear. Darkness on the other side. Holding bay 6.

Ah, shit. She realized exactly where she was. Syndra turned around and attempted to run out of the room the way she came, but a door of what seemed to be dark mist materialized from nothing and blocked her exit. She tried blowing it down, but nothing happened when her magic struck it. The lights in the room had dimmed now, causing it to become very dusky. She felt a shiver down her spine.

"Heh Heh Heh… Afraid of the dark?" Rang a spectral voice that sounded like it came from nowhere, yet at the same time everywhere. Overhead lights lit up from inside the window and she finally could get a better view of who, or what, was behind it. A large room came into view. The walls and floor were colored white and inside it were only two things. A pair of oversized handcuffs that had been broken, now laying on the floor, and a very familiar apparition levitating as close to the window as possible, staring Syndra right in the eyes.

"Nocturne." She said blankly.

"Ah, Syndra. How lovely of you to visit me." Nocturne responded.

"What have you done here?" She said, gesturing to the dead summoner and pair of broken restraints.

"Oh, nothing really. I finally figured out a way to break those pesky magic retaining handcuffs, leaving this summoner utterly and hopelessly defenseless."

"What are you planning?"

"Hmmm, that's odd." He said, phasing through the glass and into the room Syndra was in. He started slowly circling her. "You sound intrigued. Could it be that you share a similar hatred for this forsaken institute?"

"That would be correct." She said, feeling slightly less frightened of the living nightmare. "If you've found a way to escape your restraints, perhaps I can as well. Then I could unleash my vengeance upon this place."

"I could help you, Dark Sovereign." Nocturne said, still whirling around her, but getting very close, almost touching her. "But what's to say you wouldn't try to destroy me with your power?"

Syndra laughed. "You really don't trust me that much? That's cold, even to a person like myself. We are very alike, you and I. Why would I kill an ally? Especially one that could probably kill me just as easily."

Nocturne chuckled, and she felt cold air that she regarded as his 'breath' brush against her neck. "We do share some aspirations I suppose. We could rule this world, you know? I the king and you the queen. It would be quite fun, If I may say so myself. Heheh."

"If I were queen, and you king, wouldn't that make us married?" She smirked.

"I suppose so. King of Darkness, Queen of power. I like the sound of it, personally. Perhaps I could even maintain a human form long enough to plant my seed in you, thereby bringing us a child and heir to our throne."

Syndra blushed from the causality in his voice. "Slow down, Nightmare. I am a woman with self respect, and I will not let any random spectre fuck me."

"Ah, ah, ah." He said, his hands running down her sides slowly. "I am no random spectre, as you put it. I am the ghost of ghosts, the lord of misery. In your world, I am a god."

"When you put it like that… Well, my interests are piqued."

"Then let us go. First we shall break your restraints and destroy this decrepit place, then we shall start our kingdom and consummate our love. Do you have any objections, Sovereign?"

"Not that I can think of. Go we shall."

**A/N: Leave me suggestions yo.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Some fight for honor, some fight for glory. It only matters that you fight.**

Aatrox sat alone in the garden of the institute with both legs crossed over each other. His breaths were deep and steady, each one taking as much effort as the last, but no more nor less. His eyes were shut, and to any commoner it would seem the Darkin was asleep. But sleep was for the weary, and Aatrox did not consider himself tired in the slightest.

For him, this was a sort of meditation. A daily occurrence, at the same time every day, in the same spot. He had yet to be disturbed and this was his third week straight of these meditating sessions. The counselor the institute had forced him to see recommended he began meditating, so he did just that. At first, he did not quite like it so much. It seemed a waste of time, and time was valuable. But after awhile, he grew to fancy it. It was nice to zone out from the world and empty your mind. For a being that pretty much only thought about bloodshed all day, a little relaxation went a long way. It was good to sometimes… reflect. To think about who you are and who you want to be, or better yet, how you want to remembered. Aatrox had already defined himself somewhat, for many knew the folktales and stories of the legendary demon who arose from the earth many a time to aid a losing battle. Written in ancient scrolls and by word of mouth, the narratives made their way through the whole nation of Runeterra. Of course, details always changed when things were spread out. Such as who he fought for or how many he slew. One thing always stayed the same, though: The description of Aatrox's fighting style. The scribes always told of a fighter that used techniques no man nor beast could ever match. He danced with his blade, not gracefully, nor viciously, but the perfect combination of the two. It was with refined skill that he could strike so savagely like a barbarian, yet still hold the poise of a world class duelist. They say he was always filled with a certain joy… no, not joy. Better yet, he was always filled with such extreme exhilaration when fighting. His attitude inspired the warriors who he fought for, making him quite the charismatic leader. But in hindsight, he wasn't really fighting for them, oh heavens no… He wasn't fighting for right, he wasn't fighting for wrong. He was merely fighting for the sake of fighting. Because in that moment when you take an individuals life, in those precious seconds you bask in the sun, drenched with the blood of your foes, those are the moments when he felt the most happy. Those are the moments he truly felt alive.

An unfamiliar presence made itself known to Aatrox as it cleared his throat. He cracked open an eye and looked the newcomer up and down.

"What do you want, angel of the fallen?" He said, the last few words with a hint of contempt to them.

Morgana covered up a grin and sat next to him, her legs crossed as his were. "I only came here to relax, I was hoping you wouldn't mind if I join you, _demon._" She responded, her last word said with a bit of disgust.

"Do you think I would take offense by being called that?" Aatrox chuckled, "That is like calling Yasuo a human, it is only biologically correct."

"Oh, I have no personal quarrels with it. My sister on the other hand… Well, she probably wants to chop your head off. Heh." Morgana said.

"That makes two of us, then. What brings you out here, Morgana?" He asked.

"The amount of simpletons and braindead beings in that institute is absurd. I feel surrounded by idiots all the time, so occasionally I come out here for some peace." Morgana confided.

"Am I disturbing you then?" Aatrox called.

"No. You may not talk much, but I know you and I know your past, Aatrox. You were an ascended being, like myself, cast down by your own people to walk this earth as a demon. It also doesn't hurt your chances that your immortal, again like myself, and of much more knowledge than these pathetic mortals." She said.

Aatrox did not speak for awhile. Instead, he closed his eyes and thought of his past. Not of the past everyone knew about, not the past that consisted of murder sprees and vicious fighting. No, he thought of the past before that. The past where he actually fought for good.

"It seems like so long ago…" He whispered, his eyes barely opening.

"You may feel alone in this world, Darkin, but if you must vent, go forth and do so." Morgana said politely.

He tilted his head back in thought. "We were not angels, like you had previously been. We were different. Just a group of higher beings created by something unknown to us. Our duty was clear, though. To protect and serve mankind. We fulfilled our service to man for many millennia and I was one of the best of our kind. I was known for my grace, for my mercy. Back then my name was not Aatrox. It was…" Aatrox closed his eyes again, deep in thought.

"What was your previous name, Aatrox? You can trust me." Morgana whispered.

He hesitated for a second before sighing. "My name was… Sute. A renowned hero of humanity. I was just and humble, a god amongst men, yet one little mistake cost it all..."

"What exactly happened, Darkin?"

"I overstepped my boundaries. I killed one mortal who deserved it at the time... Unfortunately, killing a human was considered one of the biggest acts of treason. My brothers, my friends, they cast me down. They doomed me to this existence. At first, I hated who I was, I hated having to mask my feelings of bloodlust. But after a while, I started to… accept myself, per se. My rage, my anger, my love for war… I let it all out. I traveled back to the temple where the rest of my kind resided and slew them all. It was…" Aatrox's eyes seemed to gleam. "Magnificent. I'd give anything to relive those moments when I took vengeance upon my brothers. Those precious seconds when I thrusted my sword through them…"

Morgana took a minute to digest the long story Aatrox had revealed to her. "Are paths intertwine more than you know, Aatrox. Come." She raised her hand in the air, to which Aatrox took gently. They silently walked in the garden, each enjoying the other's accompany.

"You don't seem to have many friends, do you Morgana?" Aatrox asked.

"You're one to talk." She snickered. "But yes, I cannot say I have many friends at this place."

"Perhaps, by the fate of the gods, or perhaps by the fate we make for ourselves, we met today for a reason. Perhaps, if you're willing… We could be… Friends?" Aatrox asked, surprising Morgana with the shyness and embarrassment he was showing.

"I would like that very much, Aatrox." She smiled. Suddenly she brought a hand to his chest and traced his pectoral with her finger gently. "Perhaps even _more _than friends…"

"Your room?" He asked.

"But of course. Follow me."

**A/N: Hehe. I tried taking a stab at Aatrox's relatively unexplained origins, such as how he became a darkin and what not. Leave me suggestions yo! Peace. **


	5. Chapter 5

**We do not die when we have too much despair… We die when we have too much hope.**

Grunts and the noise of practice dummies being hit mercilessly were the only sounds in the League's training rooms. It was late at night, close to three A.M. While most of the institute slept peacefully, one man refused to end his strenuous chain of exercises. His shirt had left long ago, revealing his pale skin and toned chest, painted with scars in various places, showing the mark of a warrior. Each time his hand struck a dummy or his foot connected with a target, his muscles rippled, yet none faltered. He must have been going at it for hours, but his body showed no signs of exhaustion. A thin line of sweat adorned him, giving his skin a shiny gleam. His hair, now drenched in either water or sweat, fell sloppily down his back, reaching towards his mid back. Its deep black color was… ominous to say the least. Having black hair was not odd, but his seemed to just _radiate _darkness. Like it was darker than something already black. His face was not scar free, unfortunately. A particularly large one ran across his face, stretching from just above his left eye to all the way over his lip and finally ending at the bottom of his chin. His mouth was pressed together tightly, showing no signs of frustration nor excitement. It was a pure lack of emotion. His red eyes seemed to reflect a certain intensity that none other could match. They seemed to be indifferent yet dangerous. It wasn't Zed's anger that scared them, it was his cold, calculating personality. Not many could have such a relaxed state of mind at all times, especially when half of Ionia wanted your head on a pike. But somehow he never waned, he never showed emotion. His eyes, though… You could feel the rage hidden behind them. You could feel the ruthlessness in them. He knew better than anyone that one day, his emotionless exterior would fall, and the true Zed would show its existence. It was relatively inevitable. Someone would push him over the edge, someone would get to him. Its not like he wasn't already exceptional at dealing with being hated, but one can only be hated and do nothing about it for so long. When the day came when he could no longer take it, the only viable option would be to make a statement, one that nobody would ever forget, and all it was going to take was a little… push.

That day was coming soon, he could feel it. Lately he had been getting angrier than normal over little things. He had been trying harder and harder to assert his dominance in matches, and he was furious when he lost one. He had been training an absurd amount. To him though, it was somewhat relieving. The anger that swirled inside him, the pure rage that had been building up since the first day he was banished, soon it would all be released. And he would be the one to reap what these fools sow. Zed abruptly stopped his training after knocking the head clean off a dummy with his bare hand. He equipped his shirt and mask, and strode out of the training arenas back to his room.

He smiled maliciously. _Soon…_

**...**

Yet another defeat. This had been the fourth one in three days. He had done well, but his team had given up the game. Fuming, he paced back to his room, but was stopped by a summoner.

"Zed, you know the rules. It is mandatory to shake hands with your opponents after a game." The summoner said.

"Tell me summoner, do you value your life?" Zed responded, his irritation evident.

"Nonsense, go shake hands Zed. Now." The summoner countered, his eyes narrowing. "I could always just force you to, but I'm trying to help you keep your dignity."

Zed's hands balled into fists as he turned back to the platform which held his 'allies' and his enemies. He joined his allies and they began exchanging handshakes, each one of them saying "Good game" to each other, except Zed. He was wordless, his handshakes firm, maybe a bit too firm. He looked over each and every enemy as he shook their hands accordingly. First they had a Vayne. Tch, if she thought she could hunt shadows she was as stupid as she was flat. Then, they had an alistar, whom Zed didn't really have an opinion on. Next was Garen, who he strongly disliked. After was Lee Sin, who he thought would be better teaching monks rather than fighting in the League. And last was… was…

The green suited Kinkou eyed Zed carefully as he neglected to take her extended hand. Instead, his red eyes merely remained locked into her brown ones. She found herself wordless, even if it were only for a nanosecond, as those red eyes stared deeply into her soul.

*ahem* She cleared her throat, "Good game, Zed." She tried to say politely, but knew it sounded forced.

Zed swatted her hand away. "Leave." Was all he managed to say, his own self restraint holding back many of the things he would've liked to say. Still, the single word sounded as hate filled and venomous as possible.

"Zed!' The summoner called, "Shake her hand!"

Zed extended his hand, palm open. Warily, Akali took it, still looking over her rival cautiously. She expected him to shake it and leave, only to go brood in his room. Her intuition, however, was mistaken.

As soon as she clasped Zed's hand, she found herself flying through the air. She slammed into the wall that was about thirty feet away from her original spot. Her left hip had taken the brunt of the collision, but it still sent a wave of pain throughout her body. Akali lifted her head and saw the other 8 champions take a step back, each of them a bit uncomfortable. The summoner who was lecturing Zed earlier was now yelling at him. Zed, however did not pay any attention to him. He stared at her alone.

"Do. Not. Ever. Touch. Me. Again." He said, pausing shortly after each word to add more emphasis. He turned and walked nonchalantly out of the room, the summoner now screaming profanities at him. A few of her fellow champions had come to check on her, but she really didn't pay them any mind. Instead, she thought about what Zed had just done. He had physically lifted her off the ground and thrown her thirty feet across the room. He also did this so fast that she didn't even have time to react, and she was an expertise ninja. To top it all off, he had done this feat with only one hand.

'Damn.' She thought, her side still burning with pain. 'He's gotten stronger.'

**...**

With a resounding punch, another tree had been dented quite heavily. Zed was outside of the institute, blowing off steam the only way he knew how: Training. This time, he wanted to give his hands a more painful target. So instead of punching training dummies, he had chosen trees on the outskirts of the institute. These were no small trees, either. They stretched upwards for hundreds of feet, their wood like armor plating. That did not stop Zed, though, as a trail of broken trees lay behind him, each unable to withstand his frustration. He grunted furiously as another one toppled, its crash deafening to all around it. He felt a familiar presence behind him and stopped his makeshift lumberjacking session. Turning his head, his red eyes met with gold ones.

"Shen." Zed said, the one word filled with loathing and hate.

"Zed." Shen responded, his voice giving no signs of anger or happiness, like usual.

"Have you come to kill me Shen?" He asked.

"No, that is not what I want nor is it what the institute allows."

"Then why are you here?"

"To warn you. If you so choose to continue hurting my friends and comrades, I will be forced to take action. And when I do, it will either end with you dead or ashamed and disgraced beyond belief."

Zed laughed, "You're giving me a warning? No Shen, let me give you a warning." He strode very close to the Kinkou ninja, within a foot or two from touching him. "If you and your subordinates do not cease your constant pestering of me, I WILL take action. And there is only one possible outcome." Zed smiled under his mask. "Death. For all of you." With that, he strode back to the institute, leaving Shen to contemplate in the woods.

**...**

"Well? What did he say?" Akali asked.

"He told me that if we do not leave him alone, he will kill us. All of us." Shen responded.

"What! The nerve of him! I was almost seriously injured today, and it was completely unwarranted!" Akali fumed, her anger boiling dangerously.

"Akali perhaps it is just best to wait and-"

"No Shen! You always think waiting is the best solution! Did waiting help your father?! Did waiting help our temple?! NO! I will not wait any longer! I AM going to confront him!" She yelled, storming out of the room.

"Akali sto-" Kennen said.

"Kennen," Shen put a hand in front of him, "She had made up her mind, there is no stopping that woman when she wants something done. It would be in our best interest to not take part in this ordeal."

"But what if Zed attacks her?! What if she dies?" He asked.

"If Zed attacks her, he will win, this much I know. If she survives, then perhaps she will learn some respect and humility, along with patience and restraint. If she dies, which the chances of that happening are slim to none, then she will die by her own decision, not ours."

"How can you be so sure she will not die?"

"Because," Shen said, his face showing a trace of sadness, only briefly, "Zed still loves her."

**...**

Akali found Zed in just the place she thought he would be: The training rooms. The shadow warrior had taken off his shirt and helmet, now only sporting his arm blades and loose sweatpants.

She watched from behind a corner for a few minutes. His form looked perfect… In everything. His punches, jabs, kicks, they were all as accurate as they were deadly. Sweat dripped down his chest as muscles in his arms flexed upon delivering a blow to the dummy. Finally, she stepped out into the open behind him. She had been sure to make no noise, but even still she saw him straighten and stop his rigorous training.

"Akali." He said, punching the dummy one last time, taking its head clean off.

"Zed." She responded. "I've come for you, and you alone."

He chuckled, "Oh Akali, you still have so much to learn."

"Did you really think I would just let you embarrass me today and get away with it? I will get my revenge, no matter the cost."

"So you plan on killing me?"

"If it comes to it, yes."

"Fine, Fist of Shadow. Show me your best." He turned around, gesturing her to come forth with his hand. She unsheathed her two kamas and happily obliged. With a grunt of exertion she lunged at him, expecting him to dodge or extend his arm blades and counter. To her surprise, he did neither. Instead, he performed a roundhouse kick that was timed perfectly so that his foot made contact with her stomach just before her kama was in reach of him. Immediately she was flung back and landed on her back, gasping for air. Staggering to her feet, she eyed him before charging once again, the pain in her stomach already gone.

Again, he countered her lunge perfectly. This time, she jumped high, attempting to slash downwards with her blades. Zed had ducked under the blow and brought his left elbow to her chest, causing her to be flung over him entirely and landing on the padded ground of the room. She grunted, the pain from that blow lingering longer than the first one. Gritting her teeth, she rose from the ground again, looking at the shadow ninja who was staring off in another direction, his pinky finger in his mouth, seeming unimpressed and uninterested. With a yell of anger she charged him for the third time, and for the third time she failed. She had run straight at him, wishing he would just release his blades and stop beating around the bush. Instead, he ran at her as well, performing an athletic somersault over her and kicking her in the side of the head. She fell to the ground as her head throbbed and vision dulled momentarily. As she shakily stood for the third time, she expected him to be gloating or laughing, but when she looked at his face it was filled with nothing but disgust.

"You have grown so weak ever since you bested me all those years ago… Victory has defeated you." Zed said, his brow furrowing. Akali wiped blood from the side of her mouth and stood up fully, defiant to the idea of letting him when.

"I did not best you, Zed!" She yelled, her anger raging again. "For some reason you think that I feigned my love for you, and that because you 'fell' for it, I had outsmarted you and defeated you! It was not fake! I loved you!"

Zed's face remained cold and uncaring, but she clearly saw his eyes flare in anger briefly. "If you had really loved me… You would have come with me!" He said, his own voice rising. "But no! You chose Shen! Everyone did!"

"I chose to stand up for what was right, Zed!"

"And what would that be? Balance? Emotions? Weakness? Because that is ALL the Kinkou is and ALL it will ever be!"

Now Akali's anger subsided and she felt a strong sense of pity wash over her. "No, Zed." She said, her voice low and sad. "Compassion. Friendship. Love." The last word pained her to say.

Zed laughed hysterically. "You think those matter?! You think that love and compassion has kept me alive for so long?! Ha! No, Akali, I have survived on anger and detachment all these years. The truth is right in front of you, yet you fail to realize where real strength comes from."

"And where would that be, Zed?"

"Strength does not come from companionship nor does it come from your so called 'love'. I learned that the hard way a long time ago. Friends? They will abandon you. Lovers? They will stab you in the back. No, the only thing that matters is yourself and yourself alone. Call me narcissistic if you will, but it is the truth. Because you will never betray yourself. Your mind, your body, they are yours, fully and absolutely. I had this revelation short after my banishment. Day in and out, the only things that kept me company were my own thoughts and my shadow. But I thrived, and I gathered followers. Soon, my forces stretched far and wide. Yet I was still not happy, so I searched deep within myself for what I could do to please myself. Had I not already reclaimed my throne? Had I not already gotten my vengeance? Had I not already cemented my place in history? I had everything I could ever want, except that wasn't true, it was merely what I told myself every night before I went to sleep. No, secretly my heart ached for someone else. For one person in particular…You." Zed detached his arm blades and slumped to the ground. "I told myself I would never let this happen again… So why do I find myself defeated so handily? Why can I not let go of you?" He slumped his head and put his hands behind his neck, trying to think. To rationalize. To get back to his senses and plunge his blade deep into this woman. But all his thoughts were jumbled, and he could not do anything but sit and release the tears he had held back for so long.

Akali was shell shocked. At the beginning of his rant, she was expecting the usual 'balance is a lie', 'I fight for what is right' bullshit that Zed always spews, and for the most part that was his speech, but towards the end… Had he said what she thought he did?

Now the man that all of Ionia feared, the destroyer of the Kinkou, The Master of Shadows… He sat curled in a ball, crying and releasing cries of anguish. "Zed…" She said sadly.

"What?!" He half yelled, half cried. "Why don't you just kill me now?! I am defenseless! Mentally and physically!"

Akali sat down near Zed and ran her fingers through his wolfish hair. "Zed… I do still love you. But you have changed so much since you left the Kinkou… I fear you are not the same man once knew."

Zed instantly froze at the contact from Akali, his sobs still ringing from his throat. "I am not… the man… you once knew…"

Akali continued stroking his hair, knowing he loved this ever since they were kids. Zed always had a soft spot for when people, specifically girls, played with his hair. It sounds hilarious now, the Master of Shadows, having a weak spot for hair, but it was true. And she was the only person who had gotten close enough to him to know it.

"Zed… You are broken. But perhaps, through both of our efforts… We can fix you."

"I will not join the Kinkou! Never again!" He cried, "I cannot lose all that I've gained… My followers… They need me." He whispered, his head in his hands, shaking violently.

"Shhhh." Akali took his head and put it in between her breasts, which was quite an odd feeling, but she would endure so long as it calmed down Zed. "Rest. We will discuss this later." The remainder of the night consisted of Zed's muffled cries and Akali snuggling.

**A/N: Holy shit, this took fucking forever to finish. Whatever. Hooray for fluff! Bet that took a turn you weren't expecting? Oh, it didn't? I'm a shitty writer? Ok :(**

**Leave me suggestions or whatever. Peace.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Another AA meeting…**

Several champions' conversations filled the room with noise. Ryze, whom was at a podium in front of them, desperately tried to get their attention.

"Hello? Is everyone here? Are you guys even listening?!"

Having enough, he cast an arcane spell which spewed powerful magic from his hand and directly into Tryndamere, who died immediately upon impact. The champions at once were silent, all eyes on Ryze and the former place where Tryndamere sat. He got up, a sigh of relief escaping a few people's lips, seeing that he was okay.

"Rargh, you're lucky I have unending rager you fuckface!" He yelled, still pissed at Ryze for killing him only a few seconds ago.

"Now that I have all your attention, can we please begin…?" Ryze asked, ignoring Tryndamere completely, who took his seat and pouted. "Alright, as you all know, this is our weekly alcoholics anonymous session. We an st-"

"Excuse me," Ashe asked. "How is this supposed to be anonymous if we are all clearly visible and know each other?"

"Uh, well…" Ryze stuttered.

"Ashe you're an alcoholic? WTF?" Said a surprised Twisted Fate.

"See? This is my point exactly…" Ashe grimaced.

"Very well, Ashe. Seeing as you volunteered just now, why don't you go first?"

"What? No…" Ashe responded.

"Oh, but I insist." Ryze said, his eyes narrowing.

"No…" Ashe countered.

"Please, do not upset me." Ryze said, his hands beginning to glow with magic.

"Alright! Fine! Let me think of where to start…" She put a finger to her chin. "It all started when I married Tryndaqueer." Tryndamere rose from his seat, his anger raging.

"HEY!" He yelled, but was cut off.

"Sure he talks big," Ashe said, ignoring her husband. "But the guy has a pathetic four inch cock. What the fuck am I supposed to do with that? Not to mention his personal hygiene, yuck. So every night, when I'm feeling lonely due to a husband that cannot please me, I sit down, drink three or four bottles of wine, then pleasure myself to the thought of Draven; A real man."

Draven stood up, holding a half empty bottle of Tequila in his right hand. "DRAAAAAAAAAAAVENNNN!" He yelled, almost tripping over himself.

Ryze facepalmed. "Draven, this is a meeting to try and rid you all of your alcoholic tendencies. Why are you drinking here?"

"What? I thought this was the bathroom." Draven said.

"Just… Sit down. Please."

"Moving on, let's choose someone else to speak." Ryze looked over the crowd. "Hmmm. How about you, Vi?"

The enforcer stood up. "Its just… I like Caitlyn so much! And she's so professional and perfect, but I think she likes Jayce and not me and I can't let him have her because he is an arrogant asshat and I just drink my woes away every night because I'm so lonely and I just wish I had a friend but everyone is afraid of me and I don't see why-"

"OKAY! THANKS FOR SHARING!" Ryze said, irritated by her rambling.

"But… I wasn't done…" Vi whimpered.

"Next, Graves. Go."

"Hehe, Pardner. You don't want me to even start. I've been drinking since I was three years old, because that's how a real man does it. I've been drinking all the time ever since. I'm drunk every game I'm in, I'm drunk every time one of you has seen me, I'm drunk right now, and I don't think any of you have seen me sober." Graves said, taking a sip from his flask.

"Well...Ok… Continuing, why don't you share Gangplank?" Ryze asked uncomfortably.

"YAR!" Gangplank shouted, standing up.

"Could you speak more clearly please?" Ryze asked.

"YAR YAR YAR YAR YAR POOPDECK YAR YAR!" Gangplank yelled.

"Okay, next pers-"

"YAR YAR YAR YAR YAR YAR YAR YAR BOOBS YAR YAR YAR YAR YAR YAR YAR YAR YAR!"

"Uhhh…" Ryze started. "Twisted Fate, please speak."

"Sure things. See, I'm a gypsy which is code for a guy that likes to get fucked up and fuck bitches. I excel at both, so I guess you could say I have a bit of an addiction."

"Great!" Ryze lit up, happy someone actually gave him a kind of serious answer. "Thank you for sharing, Fate. Next, what about you Sion?"

"GET TO THA CHOPPER!" Sion yelled.

"What." Ryze said, perplexed.

"I'LL BE BACK!" Sion roared.

"What are you saying?" Ryze asked.

"HASTA LA VISTA, BABY!" Sion shouted.

"CAN SOMEONE EXPLAIN WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?" Ryze yelled. "WOULD IT KILL YOU GUYS TO GIVE ME ACTUAL ANSWERS SO I COULD GIVE YOU ADVICE?" Silence filled the room as Ryze waited for an answer. "THAT'S IT? ARE WE DONE BEING SILLY? GOOD." Ryze took a deep breath and continued. "Okay. Yasuo, why don't you share?"

"It all started… When I was born. See, I was a wayward child. Now, this is a story all about how

My life got flipped-turned upside down

And I'd like to take a minute

Just sit right there

I'll tell you how I became the prince of a town called Bel Air

In west Philadelphia born and raised

On the playground was where I spent most of my days

Chillin' out maxin' relaxin' all cool

And all shootin some b-ball outside of the school

When a couple of guys who were up to no good

Started making trouble in my neighborhood

I got in one little fight and my mom got scared

She said 'You're movin' with your auntie and uncle in Bel Air'

I begged and pleaded with her day after day

But she packed my suit case and sent me on my way

She gave me a kiss and then she gave me my ticket.

I put my Walkman on and said, 'I might as well kick it'.

First class, yo this is bad

Drinking orange juice out of a champagne glass.

Is this what the people of Bel-Air living like?

Hmmmmm this might be alright.

But wait I hear they're prissy, bourgeois, all that

Is this the type of place that they just send this cool cat?

I don't think so

I'll see when I get there

I hope they're prepared for the prince of Bel-Air

Well, the plane landed and when I came out

There was a dude who looked like a cop standing there with my name out

I ain't trying to get arrested yet

I just got here

I sprang with the quickness like lightning, disappeared

I whistled for a cab and when it came near

The license plate said fresh and it had dice in the mirror

If anything I could say that this cab was rare

But I thought 'Nah, forget it' - 'Yo, homes to Bel Air'

I pulled up to the house about 7 or 8

And I yelled to the cabbie 'Yo homes smell ya later'

I looked at my kingdom

I was finally there

To sit on my throne as the Prince of Bel Air

Ryze was speechless, stunned in fact. He promptly took a gun, which he had been concealing in his pants, and shot himself in the head. The rest of the champions at the 'alcoholics anonymous' meeting celebrated that he was finally gone, since he had been such a pesterence over the last few days. They celebrated by throwing a party and getting royally fucked up in his honor.

_**Fin**_

**A/N: What can I say, I felt like taking a break from serious writing and wanted to write some downright ridiculous shit. I hope you enjoyed, and I hope I made you laugh at least once whilst reading this. Leave me reviews and suggestions please. Its hard to just create good content, since I don't really have a lot of time to think of stuff. Normally, I would just read someone's idea and think "Hmm that sounds good" and just go to work on it, but with very little reviews on my last chapter I had to think of this one myself, which took more time. Basically, reviews and suggestions= better material and faster updates. No ideas or suggestions= slow releases and mediocre content. Anyway, just wanted to rant for a second. Peace.**


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's note: So because 's page breaks are fked up I will be using this **xxxxxxxxxxxxxx **for a change in scene or change in time, be it in the future or a flashback. So yeah without further adieu:**

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**Zed's Chronicle**

Life, Zed had learned, could be a troubling thing.

Its was not an easy thing to learn, nor was it satisfying to accept, but it had to be recognized. The Shadow Master had been dealing with adversity and strife at every turn in his existence. Yet, he always tried to remedy the situation, to make something from nothing. Sometimes, though, there is simply nothing that can be done. Sometimes, you have to accept defeat. It was when Zed was a young boy that he understood this revelation. He had finally figured out his destiny. _To protect Ionia._

Ever since Noxus invaded them, ever since he saw women and children slaughtered in front of his eyes, it forever changed him. He was but a young boy, watching his fellow countrymen killed like lambs to a slaughter. It changed him. It changed everything. He trained at the side of the Kinkou, which at the time he thought most highly of. Just being able to work alongside the up and coming Eye of Twilight and Fist of Shadow he considered a privilege. His ideals were so pure, so innocent. All he wanted was to grow strong with his new comrades and mend his wounded country. So he trained, and he trained and trained and trained. He trained until he would pass out, then he would train some more.

Zed was never the most gifted student, nor the fastest, nor the strongest, nor the smartest, but he always worked the hardest. He would not yield to anything to reach his goal, and if he did not reach it, then he would work unfathomable amounts until he was strong enough to. He rose like wildfire through the ranks of the Kinkou, becoming respected by most, but not all. His master, whom was like a father to him, never gave Zed the praise he deserved. In just three short years, he had gone from being a homeless orphan to an expert ninja and proficient duelist. Yet, his master favored Shen, even when their spars would end in a draw. His master would always put his hand on Shen's shoulder, always say 'great fight, Shen', always give Shen his blessing. It infuriated him to no end. Not even the Fist of Shadow herself could brawl Shen and avoid defeat. No one could beside himself. His frustration soon turned to anger as every single duel between him and The Eye always resulted in the same result: A draw. He could not prove his dominance, yet he held Shen from proving his. Just once, he wanted to win. Just once, he wanted a definitive victory. An undeniable, absolute victory.

Shen and he were the two best ninjas in all of the Kinkou at the time. They were on a whole nother level. Even still, his master held a title from him. The most elite of the Kinkou get special titles, all derived from warriors in the very original order. Things like The Fist of Shadow, The Eye of Twilight, or The Heart of the Tempest, they were given to the strongest warriors. Zed was never given any, even though he full heartedly believed he deserved one. Perhaps the master could feel the malevolence inside of him, or perhaps he thought he needed to learn more. Regardless, he was shunned, and inside he raged.

Zed tried to contain himself, he tried to steady his mind, but it became more bleak and difficult with every passing day. On one particular evening, the young Zed found himself listening to a conversation between two of his 'friends'. He was hidden behind a thicket deep in the woods, spying on the Eye of Twilight and Fist of Shadow. He'd been at it for days, as they came out to chat daily in this same spot. He knew he shouldn't be eavesdropping, but he couldn't seem to stop himself. He didn't even know what he wanted to hear, or see them do. On this particular day, the two had somehow ventured onto the subject of himself. Of Zed.

"That was an impressive duel, Shen. You nearly bested Zed." Akali said.

"Ah, yes." Shen responded, his iron brown eyes narrowing at the sound of Zed's name. "It was close, but unfortunately, I feel like I under performed."

"What do you mean?" Akali asked, perplexed.

"Well…" Shen rubbed the back of his head. "My father has told me to hold back when fighting Zed. He feels like Zed's entire life revolves on the prospect of beating me and proving himself. He instructed me to allow him to at least end the duels in a draw, to keep his demeanor up. Poor fellow, he has no idea just how far behind he really is."

Zed was enraged. He did not believe Shen, not for a minute. He saw how hard Shen tried, he saw it in his eyes. He knew honestly that Shen could not beat him in a fight. But Shen, wanting to impress Akali, had created this fallacy to undermine him and make himself look better. He had flat out lied to a fellow ninja, something that was strictly against their code.

From that moment on, every duel, every training session, every restless night, was spurred on by a new emotion. One he had yet to really taste fully. Anger. He did not strive for success or peace like he used to, rather all he wanted was to beat Shen to the ground so much he could not stand again. To prove his worth to everyone. He lost whatever little amount of 'friends' he had left, including Akali. Nothing mattered besides beating Shen. It started as a vendetta, a personal quarrel. But somewhere along the line, it became something much more. It changed his view on justice, it changed his aspirations. From wanting to save Ionia to killing Shen. He soon became obsessed with it. He would study every move Shen made, his steps, his breathing. Anything and everything that could possibly help him win. His body took on rigorous torture as he pushed to perfect himself. Yet, even in his strongest form, at the apex of skill his physical body allowed, he still could not win.

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He had been preparing for almost half a year. Over the course of said time, his body had taken on an unfathomable amount of pain. Every day he would push his limits, and every night he would lay awake strategizing. Finally, the day came of the grand Hunuka Festival. This festival is held near Kinkou grounds, and almost half of Ionia would be in attendance. The Kinkou had traditionally taken part in the 'entertainment' factor of it, showcasing their best fighters in several head to head matches. The two finest fighters would face off in a finale, which was the highlight of the festival. These two fighters also had no idea they were participating, for the names of the fighters performing were announced when their fights were about to begin.

Zed had been waiting near the sparring ring for the majority of the tournament. Every time they were about to announce names of the warriors his stomach turned, for he feared not being picked to fight Shen in the finale. Surely, Shen _would _be in the finale, that was fact. Zed, however, did not know if he was going to be. Sure, he had been brutally working himself for years now, but The Fist of Shadow was quite good herself, and there were others in the Kinkou of high skill.

Finally, after waiting for what felt like centuries, the master came up to announce the finale's fighters. The gigantic crowd roared in anticipation for the final match. It was always a good showing and hyped up. Lots would place bets and wagers, hoping to score a little cash.

"Thank you for coming to the festival, everyone." His master said, his voice calm and collected. "I will now unveil our finale's participants." He took out a small piece of paper, and read the two warriors names aloud.

"First, Shen, the up and coming Eye of Twilight." Shen lifted from his seat, emotionless, and walked up to the ring, where he stood planted on his side. Zed, meanwhile. was sweating bullets. Everything he had worked for, everything he had sacrificed, all came down to this moment. If he was not picked, how could he ever attempt to embarrass Shen in front of such a large crowd again? His thoughts were interupted by his master's voice.

"And our second and last particpant is…" He let his words hang, the anticipation was almost palpable at this point. Finally, he spoke again. "Zed."

Zed let out a sigh of relief for a brief second and quickly composed himself. He, too walked to the ring and stood firmly at the other end of the mat. The two Kinkou warriors stared at each other, Zed's eyes burning with resentment, while Shen's hung with nothingness.

The fight started without a word, but a silent understanding between both ninjas. It lasted for hours, neither side showing a sign of surrender. Their fighting was so perfect it awed most if not all in attendance. Shen nor Zed had yet to make a mistake, but both had taken their fair share of heavy blows. Zed charged once again, feinting a punch with his left arm, to which Shen uncharacteristically fell for. He seized the opening, performing a huge roundhouse kick to Shen's midsection. Zed didn't realize that in the meantime he had failed to block a huge punch being thrown by Shen towards his face. Foot collided with stomach and fist with face simultaneously, knocking both contestants out cold.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

For the next week, Zed spent his time completely solitary. His room had become a haven for his lonesome. His rare appearances outside were only for food and drink, which worried a few of the Kinkou. They had seen Zed in his 'moods' before, but this was different. When Akali had tried approaching him to diffuse whatever what going on, he merely held up a hand and gave her a wicked look. Needless to say, she stopped trying after that.

Zed could not stop recollecting the events in the fateful fight. They had been burned into his brain matter, interweaving through his thoughts. He had been so close… If only he had been a little faster, or a little tougher, he would have won. It was almost within his grasp… But he couldn't help like feeling all of his rigorous training was all for naught. And _Shen…_ Shen had succeeded in denying him yet again. Something broke inside of Zed that day. His last string of faithfulness to the Kinkou had snapped, and it was only a matter of time until he somehow betrayed them. He could feel it approaching, like drowning in an ocean, and the more you try to swim to the surface, the further you sink. Unknown to Zed, something had also been created that day. A spark, if you will, inside of his own being. One that had been forming for a long time now… Ever since he joined the Kinkou. And now, with his most recent failure, it had finally manifested. A spark of anger, a spark of fury, a spark of _vengeance. _He would defeat Shen… No matter the cost.

Zed convinced himself that if he were ever going to beat shen he would need to be willing to do anything. So he did the unthinkable. He broke the most upheld rule at the Kinkou. He peered into the box of shadows. Of course, after learning this new found technique, he defeated Shen quite handily. Zed only expected praise from his master, but all he got was a look of disappointment. And now he walked, banished, from the people he had grown up. Branded a traitor.

He had to see Akali, one more time at least. She had been his only real friend throughout his entire life, and he would be lying if he said he didn't have some small amount of feelings for her. So he snuck back into the Kinkou, using his newfound arts, and entered her room in the dead of night.

"Akali." He said, his voice sounding foreign to him. The woman immediately leapt from her bed and clutched both of her Kama's raising them to the dimly lit man in the room. He took a step closer, fully illuminating himself in the candlelight.

"Zed." She said, eyes narrowed. "Why have you returned?"

"Akali, I…" He started. "I don't know where to begin. I never meant for this to happen. I never meant to do something so… drastic."

"Well Zed, whatever you 'meant' to happen is irrelevant now. What's done is done, and that is all."

"I'm s-" Zed began.

"Don't. Speak. Another. Word." She cut him off. "Have you any idea of the gravity of what you've done? You are lucky you were not executed!"

"Life has been… Hard for awhile now." Zed said, trying to explain himself.

"Hard? Is that what this is about? You think you are strong because you wield the shadows?! Let me tell you something!" She walked right up to him, getting in his face. "Any coward can do what you have done! Any weakling can wield the shadows! You are not strong for embracing this art! The strong ones are the ones who resist it! You are nothing, Zed."

"I never wanted things to go like this." He said.

"Well, they have. Now leave my presence, and never return. I should kill you here and now, but that punishment would be too merciful. No…" She tapped her chin in thought. "You must suffer. You must live alone for the rest of your life, regretting over the past."

"Akali…" He said, his voice choking up.

"Not another word. Be gone."

"...As you wish." He melted into the darkness, leaving the Kinkou's temple.

Zed faced a new emotion as he walked away from Akali that day. It was not anger, nor fury. No… It was one that had yet to rear its ugly head Zed's way. Betrayal. Betrayal from his only friend, his only love… She hated him now, and for the first time in his life, he had been truly alone.

Zed was not one to sit around and feel sorry for himself, albeit after his banishment that would have been the easiest course of action. No, he continued training and perfecting his new shadow technique. Soon, his feelings of pain and betrayal turned to anger and resent. They motivated him, to get back at the Kinkou for what they had done to him. To get back at his master. To get back at Akali. To get back at Shen…

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For the next 3 years, Zed prepared himself in every way possible. Soon enough, he had found a couple that found an interest in his art. A couple turned to a few, few to some, some to many. Now, on the day he felt he was finally prepared to take the box and exact his revenge, he looked out at his small army, waiting eagerly for their master to give the word. His mind had turned to a red haze as they began marching to the Kinkou's temple. The shadows shrieked gleefully in his head, ecstatic at the thought of reclaiming the box. He was so close… Closer than he had ever been before. And today, he would finally prove himself. To _everyone. _Because that was all he had ever wanted from the start. Acceptance.

Life, Zed had learned, could be a troubling thing. But in the end, if you get what you want, it will always be worth it.

**A/N: Sorry, this chapter took me longer than expected. Yaya so I wrote a little something down about Zed and how he never really wanted to turn into this tyrant that he is. Anyways, review please, this shit took me forever to write. And leave me suggestions, cause you never know if the next chapter will be what your idea was.**

**Anime Suggestion: Psycho Pass.**

**Peace**


	8. Chapter 8

**Fate versus Chance**

The sky sobbed over Noxus. Its rain pounded the rooftops and alleyways mercilessly, yielding for nothing. A hooded man made his way precariously through the slums, head down and eyes up. It was just another typical day for Talon. Steal and kill, steal and kill. That was all his life had consisted of lately. The days seemed to blend together, each the same as the last. They passed in a blur and before he knew it, he had grown quite the reputation in Noxus. "The Shadow's Blade", they called him. _Heh, what a joke._ As of late, though, his notoriety had caused him to receive attention from actual Noxian guards. These were not the typical bull spewing guild members that normally approached him. No, these were trained professionals. Still, they didn't stand much of a chance against him, but they did pose some big questions. If Noxus was sending their own men after him did they want to kill him? Recruit him? What was next, an assassin of his own caliber? A battalion? _Who knows. _If they wanted to play games with him then he would play right along. But he would be playing his own game on his own terms.

He made his way through the slums. Talon hated the name 'slums', it didn't really do the lowest district of Noxus any justice. A more appropriate name would be 'the hellhole your soul gets sent to to erode away.' And it had done just that. He never once in his life considered himself a good man, but he used to be...better. He used to look at the people in the slums and feel a strong sense of longing. Longing to escape this place, this _hell, _and make a life for himself. But now, after all this bloodshed, after all the death he had seen, he looked at the people in the slums with nothing but disgust. He came from absolutely nothing, against every odd that fate could throw at him, and he had made a name for himself. He had found a talent, his talent, that no one else could match him with. Well, not in this shit hole anyway.

The hooded Talon made his way through the alleyways and run down streets. While most people went for cover to escape the downpour, he welcomed it. Rain provided two things: Cover and a distraction. Both were necessary for an assassin. Little did he know, a woman with white hair had been following him the entire time.

**...**

"If everything goes according to plan, this 'Shadow's Blade' will be captured today, and brought straight to you and I." A female voice said from a dimly lit room, a fireplace being the only source of light.

"I wouldn't count on it my dear." Came a man's voice, standing across from the woman.

She stepped further into the light illuminating from the fire, revealing her entire figure. "Hmm?" She pondered aloud. "Why would that be, dear? He is being surrounded as we speak. Those soldiers of yours will have him cornered."

"But that's just the thing, Leblanc, he IS cornered. That is precisely why my intuition tells me he will escape us yet." The man said.

"I don't see your reasoning, Swain. Care to explain?" Leblanc asked.

"When a man is cornered…" Swain trailed off, stepping closer to Leblanc and into the light, revealing his dark green robes and cane. "He has only one option. He must fight. There is no place to run. He cannot retreat, he cannot run left nor right. No… He can only go forward. He can only fight those that have cornered him. And if I have inferred anything from watching this man over the last few weeks, it is that he does not fear us. Those few individuals in this city who don't fear us are the only ones that can best us. In the face of our soldiers, he will not falter. The real question is, can our beloved commander even put a scratch on him? That is really what I want to find out from this little experiment. I want to see how she fares against a man with nothing to lose, not like the typical braindead Demacians we send her to kill. He will fight with nothing held back, like a true warrior. Believe me, he will be captured and become mine… In time."

"You mean Riven?" Leblanc wondered. "She seems to be a most promising soldier, love, I believe she will fare finely."

"Riven has too pure a soul. I have seen the way she serves me, the way she kills. She does it out of loyalty, to me and to Noxus. Soldiers like her can only go so far, you see. They are limited by a code of ethics and morals, unfortunately. But this man, the 'Blade's Shadow', as they call him, I have seen his work. I have firsthand witnessed the bodies of his victims collecting in the gutters. I have seen the way he kills. It is not for the glory of Noxus, nor is it out of any sort of loyalty. He kills because he can, because he's good at it, because he _must_. Every man has a wild beast inside him, but only a select few actually let that beast surface and show its true nature. This remarkable specimen has gone above and beyond that. He has fully allowed the beast within himself to take control, and now he is a rampant wolf, killing whatever he can whenever he can."

"Oh Swain." Leblanc held her face in her hands sarcastically. "You always were so poetic. But what is your plan for him? Surely he cannot be of use when he is so dangerous and unpredictable, or 'wild' as you say."

"Its simple." Swain said matter of factly. "I merely want to put a collar on him. I don't want him to stop being a wolf. That is what makes him strong. All I want is to make him… _My _wolf."

**...**

Talon could feel eyes on him. There was no rationale for anyone to be stalking him at the moment, nor was there any evidence that such a perpetrator even existed. But after being hunted daily for years now, he tended to trust those 'gut' feelings.

It was no different this time. The skin on the back of his neck stood up, and he could feel stares landing on his back. He could not pinpoint from where, exactly, but figured he might as well go into the open and get this over with. If it was another guild member, which it most likely was, then he would bait him out and dispose of him rather quickly. No sense in drawing it out, for Talon was not one for drama.

He strutted to an open courtyard that was emptied of people and stood in the center, the rain making it difficult to see in any direction. He vaguely felt his hands grip the blades hidden under his sleeves, ready to slide into action in a matter of milliseconds. He took a deep breath and shouted, "Come out and face me, coward!"

And he almost immediately regretted it. Sure enough, his stalkers had come out to face him, but they were no guild members. At first he was confused when the first few people came into view. They adorned red and black armor, fitted with helmets and the whole lot. Their weapons looked heavy, ranging from battle axes the size of his entire body to maces that looked like they weighed several hundreds of pounds. These were no guilders, these were soldiers. Not the kind that had been giving him trouble lately either, those were just petty street guards, but these were legitimately trained killers. He took a step back and took inventory. It appeared to be 5 soldiers in total, 3 male, and 2 female. The three males held relatively large weapons, one of the women held a pair of slim but deadly looking knives, and the last one held a glowing green sword bigger than any of the other soldiers' weapons. He turned to make an escape, knowing he was outmatched. It is better to live a coward than die a hero. Unfortunately, he realized how poor a choice he had made to come here. The courtyard was surrounded by large walls on three of its four sides, meaning the only way to get out was straight ahead, which was exactly where the soldiers were standing. He snarled, realizing that there was only way out of this.

"Which one of you is the leader?" Talon asked calmly. The girl with the gigantic sword stepped forward, noiselessly.

"Ah, so its you." Talon said, gesturing to the girl that had stepped forward. "Do tell, have you come to kill me today?"

"No." The white hair girl said. "We have orders to bring you back to high command alive, whatever the costs."

"That's too bad…" Talon responded, his mouth curling up into a small smile. "Because if you wanted to just kill me this would've been a lot easier." Like a switch, he leapt into action. He flicked one of the knives hidden in his sleeves to the outermost Soldier. The man obviously had not been prepared for Talon to make such an agrresive move so quickly, because he took it in the throat without even making an attempt to dodge. He dropped to his knees, clutching at his now opened throat with blood pouring out. The other four looked at their fallen comrade for a moment, but Talon did not wait. He dove straight forward, slamming into another one of the soldiers. He was caught off guard, and Talon used his momentum and body weight to fully topple the man to the ground. Swiftly, he used his other blade to deliver a blow into one of the weak points in his armor. The man's ribcage was punctured deeply, and the blade made its way into his lung. His eyes widened as an excruitiating pain overtook him, and he started coughing violently. The other three soldiers had reacted now, charging Talon. Talon was quick to respond though, performing a back flip off the downed man and landing a good distance away from the oncoming soldiers.

Talon stared at them for a moment as they charged forward. Time seemed to slow down as he made calculations on whom to attack and whom to dodge. This happened everytime he was in the heat of battle, and he loved it. Because in times like these, when his life was on the line, he truly felt more alive than ever.

The woman with two knives got close to him. She swung forward with both blades, to which he sidestepped. The man with the battle axe swung his weapon downards at Talon's chest. He nimbly rolled to the side, and kicked the man's leg out from under him. He reached behind his back for his last hidden weapon, which was his signature armblade that he had gotten after a raid on a guild that was most insistant on him joining. Equipping his armblade, he brought it up just in time to counter a heavy blow from the girl with the large sword. The force of the blow knocked him back, and he staggered for a few steps before regaining his composure. The man he had kicked down had begun getting back up and both women charged him once again. He ran straight to them and ducked under their swings simultaneously. He did not stop his sprint though, as he continued running to the disarmed man still pushing himself off the ground. Talon kneed the man in the chin, causing his body to flip over and him to land on his back. Swiftly, Talon brought his blade down on the man's neck, decapitating him.

He turned around to face his last two attackers. The woman with both knives had began running at him while the woman with the sword stared at her newly beheaded comrade in disbelief. Talon dodged her swings easily. She seemed angry, and Talon had learned that it was never a good thing to fight with emotions. Each of her swings were sloppy and lackluster. Talon merely brought his free hand to her helmet and hit it off quite hard. She crumpled to the ground and dropped both of her blades. She looked up at Talon with hate in her eyes. He grasped her chin quite roughly with his hand and stared at her. She had long brown locks and green eyes. He raise his blade in the air.

"Such a pretty face, what a shame." He said. At this point, the girl with the huge sword had broken out of her trance and noticed what was happening.

"Miranda! No!" She yelled, sprinting towards the girl in The Blade's Shadow's grasp. It was all for naught, though, as his blade came down into her chest. Her lips quivered for a moment, before her body went limp and she face first into the stone ground.

Talon looked up at the last remaining soldier whom had stopped running mid stride and stood there, staring at him in disbelief. He smirked, relishing in his almost certain victory.

"Tell me, how does it feel as a leader to watch your entire squad killed before your eyes?" He said sadistically.

"You...You… You murdered them!' She spat, violently shaking with rage.

"What is your name, girl?" He asked.

"I am Riven." She said before pondering for a second. "Fuck what Swain said! I'm going to kill your right here and now!"

"Ah, ah, ah" Talon said, waving his finger in the air for emphasis. "You seem to think I'm the bad guy here. Let us not forget that YOU came here to attack ME! That is the only reason I had to kill your pathetic excuses for soldiers."

"They were good people!" She yelled.

"Perhaps I should send you to the same place I sent them!" He retaliated, spring forward at him, expecting a quick victory. It would not be quick, though. Riven fought well, better than the rest. Unlike many others, she seemed to thrive off her anger. She harnessed it and used it to her advantage. After what felt like hours, the two finally separated for a moment, both trying to catch their breath. They both had received their fair share of cuts and lacerations, but Riven had taken the better of one of Talon's swings to her midsection, and she was bleeding profusely. He looked up and grinned at her.

"I am really enjoying this," He said slightly surprised. "I haven't had this much fun in a long time, but, unfortunately, all good things come to an end." Talon raced at her, arblade outstretched. She heaved her sword up to block it, but he was too fast, and she was too exhausted. His blade found its mark into her left shoulder, digging deep into her skin. She let out a cry of pain before falling to her knees and dropping her sword. Her vision started to blur as she accepted the inevitable end. It never came, though, as she opened her eyes to see Talon putting his arm blade behind his back.

"You fight like a young man, with nothing held back. Its admirable, but irrelevant. However, you are too much fun to kill just now. We will meet again soon, Riven." That was the last thing she heard before passing out. Talon gathered his blades as well as the blades of the brunette woman before strutting back to his home.

..

_She was very strong, even against me. How interesting… I look forward to our next encounter._


	9. Chapter 9

The two men fought with determination. On one side stood a giant, reaching high into the sky, built like a tank with the speed of a missile. Save for a few scratches and a bloody nose, he was in a relatively good condition. On the other side stood a man that was well built, but not overly so. He stood at an average height, but his muscles were defined, and he had endured more in this duel than any normal man should have. He had successfully dodged punch after punch in their duel, dipped kick after kick, sidestepped lunge after lunge. Unfortunately, he was at a massive disadvantage due to the sheer size of his opponent. All it took were a few lucky blows and he felt as though his energy had been sucked from him. Now, he was bent over with his hands on his knees, heaving heavily, with perspiration and blood sliding down his face and tattooed chest. He slicked his wolfish mane back with his hand, and shakily brought himself into a fighting stance, with both hands curled into fists and legs spaced shoulder width apart.

The bigger man smiled, knowing this was the end. In the fleshling, Noxus' most renowned and brutal arena, two entered, but one left. He was a crowd favorite here, and for good reason. His massive size and strength easily earned him favor by the fans. They chanted "Igor! Igor!" and he loved it. Nothing quite beat the feeling of having a whole crowd behind you, chanting for you to kill your opponent. He strode up to the other man, whom was still gasping for air. In all honesty, Igor was surprised he had put up such a good fight. Most of the curs from the streets they threw in here died in a matter of seconds. This runt, however, had traded blows for a good 3 minutes or so, and even landed some nice punches on Igor. Alas, it took more than a few well aimed punches to deter him. With the end in sight, Igor performed a massive roundhouse kick at the man. Being exhausted, the other man couldn't dodge in time. The sound of foot hitting ribs produced a massive crack that boomed throughout the arena, silencing the audience. The man's body was flung like a ragdoll across the dirt ground, finally coming to an ungraceful stop against a wall.

At least 4 of his ribs were broken, that much he knew. He brought a hand up to feel the left side of his ribcage, where the blow was directed. What he felt was a mix between muscle tissue, blood, and bone jutting from the exposed ribs that now jutted from his chest. That kick should have killed him. His eyes were glossy and squinted as blood seeped out of his body. He tilted his head slightly, which felt like it required a gratuitous amount of effort, and saw Igor beating his own chest and pumping up the crowd. He knew what came next, and could only hope Igor would show him mercy and make his death quick. He should have never entered the fleshling. It was a mistake to start with, thinking he could beat professional gladiators, but the prize pool was just too enticing. Never had he imagined once during his street ridden, homeless life would he have an opportunity like this. The coin offered for the winner would make him live comfortably for years.

But none of that mattered now. He had obviously lost, and all that was left was for Igor to finish his kill. Again, Igor looked at him. However, this time it was different. He had been wary during the fight since he himself had shown grit and strength, probably making Igor feel a bit threatened. Now though, it was the eyes of a predator, and he was the prey. His own eyes began closing, and he could feel the world slipping away. With each passing second he felt less alive than the last, and he assumed he was going to bleed to death very soon.

His life begun flashing through his eyes, which he found somewhat funny. He always heard of peoples' lives flashing through their eyes when they were on the brink of death, but he had never believed it. He was sure that normally people saw their fondest memories. Of their greatest triumphs, their best accomplishments, their loves and loves lost. He, however, hadn't been blessed to live such a good life. His entire existence had been shitty from the get go. From the day he was born until now, 18 years later, he had lived on the streets of Noxus. Being an orphan, it was only his older brother and him against the world. It was almost too ironic to revisit all those terrible memories, especially now of all times. He remembered. He remembered everything. All the terrible things he had done to get by. Murdering a group of children for their food, infiltratration a family's house with his brother and slaughtering all of them. Beating the noble kids to a pulp when they were out on the street, simply because he envied them. They had the only thing he could never truly possess. Happiness.

His brother came to mind then. He had always been there through it all, helping him shoulder his hardships, teaching him how to fight and kill, giving him his own portion of food occasionally. He had truly loved him, like only a brother can love another brother. But then, he left. Off to seek a job with the military, claiming it was the smart thing to do. He very well knew his younger brother could not come with him, since he was not old enough to join. After all the pain, all the misery, all the hopelessness of the slums, he left without thinking twice. The memories of him flashed through his head as well. His rare but wide smile, his dirty jokes, his prowess when fighting. With what felt like his dying breath, he remembered something his brother told him once. They had been young, perhaps 10 and 13. They had been caught stealing from a vender and were being pummeled by said vender and his friends. He thought he was going to die then, but his brother looked at him and with a raspy and pained voice said something.

"_Rage, rage against the dying of the light."_

He felt a pulsing in his gut suddenly, and his eyes flung open. An emotion filled him that he hadn't felt in a long, long time.

**Rage.**

Shakily, he lifted himself off the ground, standing on his own two feet wobbly. Igor turned his attention from the crowd and back to his opponent, surprised by the fact that he stood up again. He was sure that the man should be dead. Hell, he looked like he was dead. The left side of his chest was destroyed, adorned by jagged bone sticking out and blood seeping from the hole created by his kick. The crowd only got louder, excited by this turn of events since it meant that they could watch Igor pummel the other man some more.

The other man, however, had other plans. He brought his arm up and beckoned for Igor to come again. This got the crowd really riled up, causing them all to stand and flail violently.

Igor raised his eyebrow. "What is your name, boy?" He asked through his thick accent.

"What's it to ya?" The other man said, all signs of pain void from his voice.

"You impress Igor. Igor likes you. I want to know your name before I kill you." Igor said.

The wounded man ran a hand through his mane and flashed a wolf like grin. "The name is Draven. And you better remember it." He added cockily. "Now, are you gonna talk all day or come at me?"

"If you insist." Igor laughed.

Igor charged forward, bellowing a battle cry. Draven rushed forward as well, moving so fluidly that one couldn't tell he had recently sustained a mortal wound. The crowd had gotten so loud that it was deafening, but this only made Draven's heart beat faster. With a mighty roar he jumped high, dodging Igor's low kick, and landed a massive right hook to the giant's jaw. Igor's head recoiled violently, but Draven gave him no time to recover. A flurry of punches hit Igor. Draven's fists landed heavily on his head, stomach, and chest. He left the ground, kicking upwards with both feet and connecting to Igor's temple. The huge man's body flipped and landed limp on the ground. Slowly, Igor lifted himself, anger coursing through his battered form. His reputation would be ruined, being tossed around by a street rat. With an angry cry, Igor charged again, ignoring the dull pain spreading across his entire body. The crowd was going absolutely insane, some cheering for the drastic turn of events, some crying for Igor, some just happy to see a good fight. Igor aimed a heavy punch at Draven, putting all of his effort and willpower into it. Had it connected, it would have taken Draven's head clean off. It did not connect, however, as Draven gracefully sidestepped it in one fluid motion, and directed a huge uppercut at the now exposed man's head. Fist connected with jaw, and a deafening crack resounded through the arena. Igor's head turned at an unnatural angle and his body went limp, sliding to the ground. The crowd went completely silent, so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Draven walked closer, inspecting the other man's body. His neck was broken. He was dead. He had won. All the thoughts came at once, and he didn't really know what to do. In all honesty, he had never expected to make it this far. Surprisingly, the crowd roared, louder than even before. They were cheering for him. It was an odd feeling, once that he had never felt before. He didn't know exactly what to make of it, but what he did know was that he felt pure exhilaration. He lifted his arms in victory and let out a vicious roar as they crowd chanted "_Draven! Draven!". _

Then the pain came.

It dropped all at once, like a crescendo in a song. The world began to get dark as his eyes glossed over and he found it hard to stand. His feet betrayed him and he began falling, fading from consciousness. The last thing he heard was the crowd juviantly chanting his name.

And he loved every second of it.

**A/N: ey. not ded. reviewerino plserino. draven is my mainerino so i had to write this. neway, have fun in ranked you fuckos and keep it groovy. **

**-rdr**


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